Whiteheads or Tailgates?

I parked my Jeep Compass two blocks down from the spot. The evening was murky over my parking spot but by the time I got there, it was rather clear with a few stars winking down at me like I was in on some job with them. I guess I was in a way.

I employed some guy’s credit card on the back door lock of the foreclosed house. I didn’t carry anything inside but the former occupant or perhaps some bum, had left a beat-up ottoman behind. Beneath all the dirt and grime, it was a white cube with black dots all over it like one half of a pair of dice. I don’t want to call it a ‘die’. I’ve never cared for that word.

I set the dice ottoman thing by the front room window and peered around the edge of the window across the street to the two houses, side by side. Each one stood two stories with small front lawns. You’d think the two occupants would match up nicely with one another as most people do who live on the same street.

Brad Whitehead lived in the one on the left there on the corner.

He would live in a corner house.

Tailgate Roy lived in the house on the right.

Roy spoke loud, but he was genuine.

It was going to be one or the other and then I would get out of this city.

I prodded my lip.

***

I started off in this game in high school, snatching what I could, where I could.

Brad Whitehead wouldn’t talk to me at school. He did approach me on my walk home one day, shortly before graduation. His friend had an uncle with a safe. Brad described the safe and I told him I could try to get it open. Brad didn’t care for that. But a week later, he told me when and where and I showed up.

I worked a little magic and got the thing open. We took a couple grand in cash from that box, and my cut was half. Brad told me to never approach him again.

Like I had approached HIM.

But a year and a handful of lousy jobs later, Brad approached me again. He had another friend with another score and again, we took it down and my cut was decent again. And again, Brad told me to keep my distance.

This thing happened several more times over the course of five years. Then Brad approached me as a manager for a small tech company and well, he needed one “last” score for a boost, naturally. I went in with him and this time, the score was even richer. We plied our secret trade and despite a few hitches with a stubborn safe, we scooped up the goods and vamped. We got the standard two blocks away and I turned toward Brad for my cut.